


Devils of a Feather

by Ira_Dunfort



Series: The Grey Fledgling [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A Second South Downs Cottage, Abaddon - Freeform, Attempt at Humor, Biblical Themes (Abrahamic Religions), Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fanart, Fuckfly, Gabriel Cooks, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kid Fic, Leviathan - Freeform, Paperwork, Pregnancy, Seven Deadly Sins, She/Her Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Michael (Good Omens), Soft Bureaucracy, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Swearing, mammon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22404496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ira_Dunfort/pseuds/Ira_Dunfort
Summary: The one in which Michael gets kicked out for being rude and we explore the Seven Princes of Hell in unnecessary detail.Beelzebub is a bit flustered.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: The Grey Fledgling [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1499264
Comments: 11
Kudos: 100





	1. Lust - Pride - Envy

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long delay, but I did get distracted by:
> 
>   1. the Advent Calander 
>   2. depression after the holidays
>   3. ideas for my Valentines Countdown
> 

> 
> To make things up to you, here, have a ton of lore a.k.a. a collection of my headcanons wrapped in a far longer update than usual, hence I even had to split it up into two chapters for reading convenience. 
> 
> Please keep in mind that the names, ascribed sin and number of Demon Princes vary depending on what source material you look at (the same goes for Archangels). Therefore I played mix and match to pick my own seven.
> 
> Enjoy!

Michael's neatly plugged eyebrows shot up. "Does anyone care to elaborate?"

Gabriel clapped his hands once to get the attention of all present women and women shaped beings. "Let's take this inside, shall we?" He turned to smile at his confused but curious neighbour who surely was already creatively filling in all the gaps in her knowledge about their relationships in her mind. "Mrs Clarke, it was nice to see you. Have a good day."

He placed a hand on Michael's elbow and escorted her towards the cottage, refusing to answer any further questions until they were behind closed doors. 

Mrs Clarke looked at Beelzebub, questioningly. "Did I say something wrong again?" 

Beelzebub snorted, an honest and friendly curve to her lips. "No, Michael is just a wanker."

Mrs Clarke held a hand to the side of her mouth and whispered conspiratorially. "I think I have to agree."

There was hope for Mrs Clarke after all, Beelzebub thought to herself. She even felt inclined to lift the curse on her plumbing. "Take care." she said and gestured a good-bye. 

The Lord of Flies went back to the car to pick up their duffel bags and, more importantly, the baked goods. She was starving after their trip to the pool.

She heard Gabriel and Michael argue in the living room as she stepped through the front door. She kicked the door closed and pulled off her shoes with her toes. The demon went straight for the kitchen, which meant passing the celestials.

"You can't just show up like that." Gabriel spoke, a strand of his product-free hair curling onto his forehead.

"You told me I'm welcome anytime." Michael crossed her arms. "This _is_ any time."

"You are welcome, yes, but at least give us a chance to prepare." The distinctly man-shaped being explained.

"He wants to be hospitable, Michael, you should have heard of the concept?" Beelzebub placed the paper bag from the bakery on the kitchen counter. "I'm not giving you any piece of my cake as long as you have no manners."

"I don't want your cake, Lord Beelzebub." The Archangel said, eyes narrowing on the demon.

"Good." Beelzebub gave her a canny nod and left to hang towels and swimwear in the bathroom.

"You don't have to use her title." Gabriel noted, keeping his voice open and friendly. 

"They are royalty of Hell, and I will address them as such." Michael clarified for him.

"She decides how to be addressed; titles are quasi irrelevant in this house." Gabriel explained. Dagon refused to let the title slip, afraid that if she got too comfortable with using Bella or, Satan forbid, just _Bee_ , it might happen during official proceedings in Hell. "She also has fully settled into her preferred gender."

"To _bed_ you!" Michael spat.

Beelzebub returned to the living room, once again walking past the squabbling angels. "It's hard to fuck without genitals, I thought even a wanker like you would know."

"I do _not_ wa--" She stopped, growled and pinched the bridge of her nose. She would not rise to the blatant bait. "Fine. Be like that."

The demon Prince smirked at her. Michael clearly wanted to opt-out of the topic, but why should Beelzebub show her any mercy? "You've never complained about Gabriel's obvious male effort before, how come you're so upset about my decision now?"

"He kept it in his pants until you came along." Michael said with an annoyed twitch to her eye.

"I came into existence at the same time you did, I have nothing to do with Gabriel's millennia-old bodily fashion choice." Beelzebub provocatively stepped into Michael's personal space. "He had his, to be honest, quite lovely cock long before I even considered going anywhere near it."

"Hey, I'm right here." The Messenger waved at the two ethereal women.

"I know." The demon Prince exhaled slowly, then turned away from Michael. She gave Gabriel a quick kiss and went back into the kitchen to fetch her well-earned treats. "Heavens, I'm hungry."

"You're a glutton, of course, you are." Their guest remarked coldly.

Beelzebub flipped her off. "I'll take that as the compliment it is."

The intruding Archangel rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. 

"Michael, come on, have a seat." While Gabriel's exterior was calm and composed, trained through aeons and delivering messages to humans who were screeching with fear back when he used to descend from Heaven, blinding halo and wings full of eyes until eventually they listened to his perfectly reasonable feedback and allowed him to use this version of a corporation. It was far easier on the eyes, pun intended. 

But, how could he ever manage those two ethereal beings to get along?

  


  


There are seven Princes of Hell serving the one and only King, Lucifer, Satan, the Devil with a capital D, whose throne was only challenged _once_ , by Beelzebub. The two of them came to an agreement, januis clausis. Hell had a ruler, just as Hell had rules. Quite often, it was assumed to be an anarchistic chaotic place for all sinners, a melting pot for evil. This misconception was a mix of propaganda by the celestial competition of Heaven for souls, and the unbound imagination of humans twisting and turning hearsay over thousands of years. 

  
◍⊱ASMODEUS⊰◍  


The first of the Princes we will explore, a sensual one usually swaggering about in a corporation of an enticing man with smooth and impeccable control over his lithe body, is Asmodeus. He rules over the realm of Lust and everything connected to it. As for all demons, his goal is to break the rules set by Her. Modesty about your charms, it was sheer nonsense to him. If you got it, flaunt it. Be proud of your body, explore it, and know the joy it can bring to you and your partner. 

His work is what most humans associate with the term 'temptation', albeit none seemed to grasp the full scale of it. There was a bit of vanity involved if you looked close enough. Asmodeus and his agents lead humans to take care of themselves, to brush their teeth to always be ready to flash a cute smile and steal a kiss. To tempt you to get that one deep cut dress to feel beautiful, to use that new perfume, to spend a little extra to have your hair done professionally and show the world who you are. To get that fit cut shirt and roll up your sleeves, to use the scented beard oil and exfoliate for that subtle, gorgeous skin that will turn heads for a second look. Once the groundwork is done, once the humans know of their own appeal and feel comfortable in their own skin, it takes only a little nudge for them to explore their sexuality and kinks, if required even with one of Asmodeus' agents. 

Abstinence was unnatural to humans, virginity an overrated concept built on Envy and Greed. Asmodeus was not against marriage and monogamy, on the contrary. Tying the knot with just one person was a challenge he could respect. That, in and of itself, was a herculean task, to stay attractive and interesting for someone, to never bore that one person, to remain inventive, open-minded and honest. Marriage should not be entered for a privilege for sex, have some children and then slack off, losing all respect for the beauty of your own body and for the needs of your spouse. Marriage, according to Asmodeus, was all about sharing a life with someone you love and cherish, so you better come prepared and put in the effort needed to have a happy sex life for several decades.

Then, there were the limits and those who were punished under his rule. As the Prince of Lust, Asmodeus also rules over those who misuse and mistreat sex. He punishes those who shame people for being interested in the same sex, for exploring their kinks and needs. You were enjoying a raunchy night at a well organised gay orgy, not knowing a single name of the consenting partners you made cum? Asmodeus was fine with that. He probably was attending the lively party himself, deftly pleasuring two or more men at the same time, teaching them a thing or ten. 

But, if you committed rape, and took someones ability to purely enjoy their own body away, you will burn. If you hurt children for your own pleasure, breaking them for all future intimacy, he would see decoratively hanging from your intestines for aeons. 

A little forgotten fact was that he had wanted Crowley to work for him, because, well, have you seen him walk? The Serpent of Eden declined his offers for centuries. He stayed under Beelzebub's command as if loyalty was an openly honourable thing in Hell. Crowley had tempted humans, yes, but usually to glut upon wine and food and stupid ideas. He himself, ironically, kept being tempted by an angel to do the very same. 

  
◍⊱MEPHISTOPHELES⊰◍  


The second Prince we will take a look at is the perfectly androgynous Mephistopheles who rules over Pride. Their appearance and pronouns used depend on who they are targeting at the moment, as the Prince of Pride did _pride_ themselves on doing some delicate work to be a good lead example for their agents. Their main targets and long term goals are arrogant scientists, politicians and authors, making them believe they were above other humans, on top of the world. They'd all end up below after Mephistopheles had their fun with them on Earth for a few decades. They don't tempt them all that much, mostly observe and egg them on, letting humans trip from one bad idea into another, inflating their egos, leading them to lose most friends and all empathy. We all are pigs when we get to the trough. If Mephistopheles met a rare exception, they would gladly let them rise to Heaven. 

Pride is a word with baggage. It is associated with snobs, elitists, mad nationalists just as well as hipsters. Taking Pride in a job properly done, in honing a skill well trained and executed, in a beautifully coordinated outfit, none of that is an issue. Neither is your homage commemoration to your ancestry, home or religion. A problem arises when you consider yourself better than others without putting in the honest work; when you never measure your skill fairly. 

The goal of Pride's agents is to embolden humans to explore their skills and do what they are good at, not what others expect or push them to do. Do your parents demand that you study medicine and become a dentist? Yes, it is a noble job, no one is going to deny that, but what you always wanted was to take care of the forest of your home state. Fuck 'em, go study forestry, be _happy_. You only have this one life on Earth and most of it you will spend working, so it better be something you can enjoy and be proud of. 

There is a special place in Hell for those telling a young lady that she doesn't look like a real woman because her chest is flat and her hips don't swing when she walks. You don't get to say that skin colour makes someone a lesser human, that you should be ashamed of having freckles or curly hair or that sixth toe on your foot. Mephistopheles' agents gather the souls of hooligans who abuse the Pride for their sports team as an excuse to hurt others, ignorant men who use too much aftershave, the relentless gossipers who knowingly spout lies, and those who look down upon the intimate and soul-revealing art of tattoos. 

What Mephistopheles urged his agents to focus on was _dignity_. Have some self-respect and be who you are, take pride in what makes you exceptional and beat the competition, but you are not allowed to hurt the dignity of others. We are not talking about feelings, but the dignity that keeps our spines upright and our eyes on the future. You break a persons dignity, and Mephistopheles will have you wander a labyrinth of Hell's basement corridors, lined with mirrors, but you won't ever see your own face again. Nor will anyone your meet in there remember your name. 

Human dignity is inviolable. At least one place on Earth was smart enough to learn from their mistakes and write this into law after their Pride had wrecked half of the planet. 

  
◍⊱BERITH⊰◍  


And then, there is the third Prince ruling over the sin called Envy. The Prince Berith is a gorgeous woman wearing a wedding band to incite jealousy towards whoever managed to marry her. She is a beautiful middle-aged woman with an impeccable haircut, blond waves in just the right spots and never does a strand fall into her stark green eyes. She carries herself with the authority of someone who has achieved every goal they had set themselves and an air of graceful royalty indicating that whatever she might ask for, she'd be handed within seconds. She is always alert and observant, particularly in the morning, just to annoy humans before they had their overpriced coffee. 

Her work is intrinsically linked to the work of Greed, Lust and Pride, as she collects the souls of humans could not handle either. If you refuse to work on yourself and only fume at those who do better, she'll have you. That is the easy part of her job, reaping the weak-minded who'd do nothing but complain, whine and were never thankful for anything. 

There was another aspect to it: the liars. Instead of putting time and effort into bettering themselves, they use their resources to build a facade. You may have heard of the old days of MySpace, the deserted LiveJournal or the recent inventions of Facebook and Instagram. While those platforms were initially intended to help you connect with your friends and find new ones sharing the same hobbies, it is also a lovely place to fake your entire existence. 

Berith has little tolerance for the pathological liars who'd take a one day-long trip to a random and cheap tropical island, changing their outfits dozens of times to take hundreds of pictures and then use time-gated postings on social media to make it appear as if they were on a four week trip around the Bahamas. The same goes for people who buy expensive clothes, go out to party, take selfies looking all stunning and wealthy, to then return the sullied garments, stinking of perfume and smoke and alcohol, demanding full refunds. They are wasting time and work of others for their own gain, to incite Envy in those around them, basing everything on a lie. 

Berith also deals with those who wouldn't allow others to experience joy. Simple things, like spoiling a good movie and robbing you of the experience to immerse yourself in the story told, unbiased, letting yourself be surprised by twists and turns. Less simple things like hipsters who wouldn't let you appreciate a band you just discovered because they have been listening to them for years already, demanding to be regarded as the better fan, a more valid fan, wanting, _needing_ , to be envied. Berith has a deep and dark place for those doing cruel things based on what they call love. Your crush turned you down, leaving you with two options: better yourself to be worthy of them or move on. Some humans see a third option: destroying their life. They'll spread the nastiest rumours about them or their actual love interest, interfere with planned weddings, place fake evidence of cheating, spike drinks, or turn to petty rape. If you ruin the God-given experience of human love out of foul Envy, Berith will have you locked away in a tiny pitch-black box, leaving you to the anguish of solitude with nothing but your own vile thoughts and memories to keep you company. 

  


  


Gabriel had politely asked his self-invited guest to take a seat. Michael had ignored that request and was wandering around the living room instead, picking up knick-knacks here and there, inspecting their desks. He had enough when she took a picture of Gabriel and Beelzebub off the sideboard. It was of them standing in front up the purple blooming Jacaranda trees they came across in South Africa on a trip before they were living together. Gabriel was wearing ridiculously expensive sunglasses, Beelzebub a wide black sun hat, both of them smiling at the camera. 

"Would you mind to explain why you are here, Michael?" The other Archangel asked, taking the frame out of her hands and guiding her to the sofa where she sat down reluctantly. 

Then, she spotted the books on the coffee table, gifts by Aziraphale and Crowley. A cookbook with easy recipes for small children, illustrated fairy tale nighttime stories, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, a fitting story, considering Beelzebub is the mother of the child. Underneath those, there were books on pregnancy, still hidden from Michael's view. 

"What's all of this?" She asked, gesturing at the stacks of books. "Are you planning on adopting a child? Gabriel, we're _immortal_ , you can't have a human child and play house with your demon."

"We're not adopting." Beelzebub answered briskly as she walked back to the angels with a heavily laden plate stacked various cakes. She sat down next to Gabriel, making sure their thighs touched as she propped her naked feet on the coffee table and wiggled her black painted toes. It was a compromise between the couple. She'd be allowed to have her feet on the table as long as there were no shoes. It clearly irked Michael nonetheless, much to Beelzebub's delight. 

"You even have a children's Bible." Michael raised a brow at her colleague. "How cute."

"Could you _please_ not go through our stuff?" Gabriel sighed, lifting one arm to put it on the backrest behind Beelzebub. 

Michael chuckled. "It's lying about, it can't be helped."

The demon swallowed her mouthful of raspberry muffin and fixed her eyes on their guest. "Have some restraint, angel."

"Ironic to hear that from a demon." The Archangel retorted and crossed her arms elegantly. 

_Satan, help me, the wanker is even wearing golden nail polish._ "We're full of surprises."

"Hmm." She tapped the side of her chin. "Is that why Sandalphon asked me to find everything we have on the prohibition of demons reading the divine word? Gabriel, are you going easy on the- _her_ , starting with literature fit for a child?"

"The Bible is for her in a sense, yes." Gabriel more or less absentmindedly toyed with a strand of Beelzebub's black hair. "It was a gift by Aziraphale, you might remember him?"

"Why?" She inquired crudely. 

"Why our retired principality chose this specific book? You'd have to knock at their door to get answers, they are just down--"

Her brow twitched. "Gabriel." She said to stop his rambling. "Why does she need a children's bible?"

"So she could read it." The Messenger shrugged and smiled, feeling clever. 

Michael turned to look at the demon who was about to eat what she estimated to be her fourth piece of cake. "But you can't touch it."

"No, obviously." Beelzebub rolled her eyes and licked clumps of icing off her fingers. "That's why I sent the letter."

"Why do you want to read it?" She pushed. 

"None of your business." Beelzebub narrowed her eyes and stuck a small doughnut into her mouth. 

"Oh, but it is, your inquiry was handed to me." The Head of Legislative noted, hand on her chest. "Partially because I used to be close to Gabriel."

 _Fuck that. Gabriel is mine._ To prove her point and rub it in, she turned to her celestial significant other and offered him a piece of strawberry cheesecake. "Babe, you have to taste this."

And he did, wrapping his lips around the tips of her two fingers to take the offered morsel. Crowley had told him that cheesecake was harder to make and that he shouldn't try it unsupervised unless he was looking for disappointment, but the joy shining in Beelzebub's eyes made him want to learn, right this moment, how to bake her this cake. He leaned down and placed a small kiss on her sugary lips. 

"It's good." He confirmed, his tongue tracing the taste.

Michael cleared her throat. "Gabriel"

"What?" He looked at her, all innocent. "It _does_ taste good."

"Why does she want to read the Bible?" She rephrased, still demanding an answer, her eggshell coloured pumps tapping impatiently. 

"Ask Bella, not me." Gabriel shrugged again. She'd get nothing out of him that Beelzebub was not willing to share herself. 

Michael took a deep breath and faced the smirking demon. The second she opened her mouth Beelzebub raised her hand, stopping whatever she had to say. 

"First of all, I am not talking to you without my lawyer. Second, I'm too tired for this shit." 

The Head of Legislative groaned. She wasn't getting anywhere with these two. Why was Gabriel not helping? All he did was dote on that glutton. "You're only tired because you stuffed yourself!"

"No, because your presence exhausts me." Beelzebub closed her eyes and let her head fall back against Gabriel's arm. "And I've been up all night, I need a nap."

"You don't even need sleep." Michael pointed out. 

"I do." - "She does." The couple spoke at the same time. 

"For what possible reason?"

Beelzebub lifted her head again to glare at the angel. She'd have to give her something to get rid of her, so why not the truth. "I'm pregnant."

Silence fell over all three of them for a long moment. Michael regarded them, their entwined fingers at Beelzebub's shoulder, her free hand resting on her flat belly, not on her stomach, but lower. Gabriel was uncharacteristically protective of her. Usually, he went with the knowledge that the Prince could handle any given situation on her own, but now he wouldn't stop looking at Michael as if he was waiting for the second shoe to drop, for a trap to reveal itself. As impossible as it may have sounded, the demon was not lying. Not to Gabriel, and not to her either. 

Which forced Michael to appeal to the Archangel's morals. "You can't have a child outside wedlock."

"Out." The Messenger ordered. 

Michael blinked, confused. "What?"

"Get out." Gabriel clarified and was already up on his feet and moving towards her. 

"You can't be serious." Contrary to her words she got up as well, throwing her arms out in exasperation. 

"I am." Gabriel said and put a hand on the small of her back, steering her towards the front door. "How about you leave before you find the limit of Bella's patience. Or mine." The male Archangel laughed to mollify the not-so-hidden threat. "Michael, buddy, you know, this is the first ethereal being born instead of created, and you'll practically be an aunt soon. Go think about it. Give me a call when you're less of an ass about the whole thing, and we'll talk."

"But--" She sputtered as she found herself outside. 

"See you, Mikey." With that, he closed the door and watched her through the small window beside it. She was slowly retreating, perplexed and probably full of questions she would have never considered when she came to visit. If only the other angel had visited as a friend, not for business. 

"Fuck her." He heard Beelzebub growl from the sofa. 

"Give her some time, she'll come around." Gabriel huffed and walked back to the angry demon, holding out his arms as he bent down to pick her up. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"She _still_ hates me." Beelzebub grumbled into the crook of his neck she had wrapped her arms around while he carried her towards their bedroom with his hands under her rear. "As if I were hurting or tempting you."

"You're not, you know that." He affectionately kissed her temple after he sat her down on the bed, offering a comforting smile. "She's just a bit overprotective." Gabriel helped her undress. Her movements were sluggish, and she kept yawning, rubbing her face into his firm chest. She truly was knackered. He already took a mental note to make sure she didn't putt off her much-needed naps for that long in the future. 

"That's one way to put it." She muttered. "You're the Archangel fucking Gabriel, you don't need protection."

"Says the demon who's ready to punch anyone who tries to test that." He laughed and kissed her forehead before pulling her black bralette over her head.

"Because I love you, you moron." Beelzebub said and flopped down into the soft pillows, making a happy little sound as she closed her eyes. 

Gabriel tugged her in with the duvet and placed another kiss on her cheek. "Love you, too." 

She was asleep within seconds.


	2. Sloth - Wrath - Greed - Gluttony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four remaining Princes are explored, and Beelzebub is trespassing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, the rest of the Princes and a decent amount of domestic fluff. 
> 
> Enjoy!

  
◍⊱ABADDON⊰◍  


The Prince of Sloth is Abaddon, a mild-mannered longhaired Asian looking person. A gender required effort, but it was not needed to get their job done. Therefore Abaddon drew the logical conclusion and didn't bother. Contrary to what you might believe, they were not lazy, but merely an opportunist and a demon of the practical type. 

Abaddon did not need to have a hand in the invention of the printing press to make copies of books within hours instead of weeks. Nor did they have anything to do with same-day-delivery services, drive-ins at restaurants, the rise of automatisms and the timesinks of video on demand. Humans, in their own, kept coming up with more and more devices to ease their life, move products and words faster, stay in touch with each other wherever they are. 

The actual goal of the Prince of Sloth was to guide humans to relax. Yes, you can sleep in on Sundays, who needs to go to church and hear the same propaganda for the hundredth time? You can order take-out after a hard day at work, prop your feet and snuggle with your pet to recharge your mortal batteries for the next day. With your money well earned, yes, you can book that all-inclusive trip to the beach and stop worrying about mundane day to day chores for a full week. If you don't slow down, if you don't get and take the time to breathe and reflect, you'll break. Humans are such fragile creatures, you deprive them of sleep, you don't let them rest, and they fall apart sooner or later. No matter what Heaven keeps preaching, that you have to suffer throughout your life, work as hard as you can, abandon all respite for nothing but a vague chance at paradise, you only live this once and you better make that a long and happy life with less stress-caused ulcers and heart attacks at forty. The rule of thumb was to take an hour for yourself every day and a full day every month for recreational laziness. If you do have a spouse, make sure they don't interfere or flat-out tax you more, they are supposed to share the burden with you, not push you towards a burnout. 

And then there were those punished under Abaddon's rule. If you take Sloth too far, if you ignore reality itself, you're done for. It starts with the little things, with commenting on news articles without having read any of it in the first place. You just want to be heard, to get some attention, without putting in any work. But it's also using the excuse of 'I'm too old for this.' or 'I'll never learn this.' to not study or try something new. As soon as you refuse to learn, you stand still. Nothing good ever comes from this, as the world around you moves on no matter what you do. As it is human nature, you don't just get simply left behind, because first, you became unnecessary baggage for others. 

It is also a sin to be late because you don't care. When you waste the time of others, copy your homework, or add your name to a project you have done nothing for. Sloth is plagiarism, it's the lack of thank-you's, leaving your tray on the table at a fast-food restaurant, the refusal to separate and recycle your garbage, the cigarette buds littering the streets of every city. It's stealing an umbrella when you forgot yours and eating the food of colleagues because you never even attempted to prepare your own. In simple words, it's being an ungrateful leech with a lack of understanding of social boundaries and the consequences thereof.

A human's body and spirit are meant to be exercised. Setting yourself even the smallest goal, even when life has been hard for you, will do to keep you moving forward. Call your mom. Clean the litter box. Learn how to make tomato soup. If you willfully stagnate, and you feel no remorse, then Abaddon, the Prince of Sloth will have you, and there will be no rest for the dead.

  
◍⊱LEVIATHAN⊰◍  


Leviathan, the fifth Prince we'll explore, reigns over Wrath. He's a plump man, bald and beardless, always dressed in dark suits and dark shirts with either a bright red or pink tie. Most times he'll be seen donning rose-tinted glasses as well, to see the world more positively. It isn't working all that well. He has a tendency to carry a walking stick, as it provides to be a tool for punishment if needed. Wrath is also known to throw random objects at people, more or less for dramatic and intimidating comedic purposes. He likes to laugh, and his agents have learned to understand his quirks.

Wrath's agenda is focused on one sole thing: teaching humans how to deal with anger. Go ahead, call someone a cum-guzzling cockgobbler to express your feelings. Leviathan was an eloquent and imaginative potty mouth through and through, inspiring artists around the world, from Shakespeare to the creators of South Park, to take that extra step into expressive foul language. It is proven that cursing alleviates pain. Not just physical, mind you, mental pain even more. If you bottle up your anger, if you swallow it all down, you'll hurt yourself or those around you. Ulcers, heart issues, unhealthy substitutes to calm yourself such as nicotine or alcohol, you'll wreck that one single human body you were given. No paperwork will ever provide you with a second one, as God had intended. 

So, if you have a tendency for anger and violent outbursts, maybe go into a craft, manual labour, something to help you deal with it on a daily basis. Build furniture, tear down houses with monstrous machines, become a butcher or surgeon. Put it out of your system with something useful. Don't cut yourself, don't throw hands with your spouse, don't start fights at bars and please, for the love of all things unholy, don't you dare hurt helpless animals. If you hurt a kitten, Leviathan certainly will make time punish you personally. You don't want that. 

Should your issue be to swallow down your anger and you're not of the physical or swearing type, try art. Paint it, write an angsty poem, a gruesome short story, a novel of an epic battle. Express your pain through your characters, your ideas. Write down how someone drags themselves out of the pain, or how they get rescued. Play with the idea, explore the possibilities, and live through them vicariously. 

Wrath himself had curious hobbies. Looking up conspiracy theories to see what lies and nonsense humans got angry about. Flipping through gossip magazines, watching overly dramatic soap operas and pro-wrestling matches, or the feast of anger presented by American news channels. 

But the Prince had work to do, and beside the souls gathered for Hell, there were those meant to be rightfully tormented as well. If you take anger and Wrath to far, if you hurt someone for the fun of it, or because you never took the time to think about how to change your aggressive habits. If you hurt your children, your partner, your pet, he will have you. If you rape and murder, he'll get creative. If you incite violence in others, driving them into a rage and thereby creating evil in someone who would have never acted that way if left alone, mind, Wrath's creativity has no bounds. 

But it was also the more hidden things, like bullying, especially the cowardly version online by creating several accounts to throw harassment at the same person. Leaving comments to create discord, to drive a wedge in a usually happy forum or fandom. Sharing lies and fake articles with the intent to watch an entire community dissolve in chaos over topics such as the idea that the Earth is flat (it's not), vaccination is murder (it's not), and the government consists of either a) alien reptiles or b) interdimensional vampire elves (it's neither, you fucking thickheaded imbecile of a gullable shitstain). Misguided Wrath is also being the one standing in a crowd, hood drawn into your face, shouting 'Burn the witch!' to rile up a mob and enjoy the spectacle of murder. Pointing those seeking justice in the wrong direction out of pettiness or, on a greater scale, it's the demagogues and racists spreading death and war, religious fanatics shedding blood in the name of the all-time classic excuse of The Greater Good, and the dark, dark communism of the 19th and 20th centuries that killed millions upon millions to even out the common wealth among its people instead of finding a fair solution to feed the hungry. Wrath comes in many forms, but they all get judged eventually. Thank God for him.

  
◍⊱MAMMON⊰◍  


Prince number six is the mischievous Mammon, ruler of Greed. She's a dark-haired woman full of snark, always appearing somewhere between bored and an intentional resting bitch-face. She prefers to wear black dresses of the finest fabrics and the most extravagant cut, topped off with a with flashing red lipstick.

If you asked her about her opinion on the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, she'd tell you that Earth was going to Hell anyway. Greed, a vice that came easy to most humans, was often paired with other Sins. Greed was the reason that Spain had lost so much of its forests to build galleons, for exploitative colonisation all over the planet, and why Australia is burning to a crisp. A passive-aggressive suggestion here, et voilá, the prices for diamonds get blown out of proportions despite the glittery white stone being nowhere near it's worth. Some aspects of Greed are all about the idea that something is valuable, despite being rubbish. 

But don't get her wrong, you can be a collector. Spoons? Baseball cards? Paintings? Go ahead, acquire them fair and square, know their value and what they mean to you, personally. But if you purchase a Claude Monet and hang it in your sparsely used little château in the Alps not to look at it and dwell on the soft dreamlike landscapes, just so you can say that you possess it, Greed will have a word with you. Art is meant to inspire, to transcend mere words and to incite feelings you cannot fully comprehend. Don't treat it like a slab of a blank canvas. The same goes for having a rare breed of dog out of prestige, ignoring the selflessly loving creature who just wants some scritches and a playmate. Or, worse, having children for the sake of having them. Handing them over from one nanny to another, never connecting, never doting on them. Warlock was lucky, even if Crowley was a shrewd as a nanny can be, at least he was interesting and had cared about him. 

Greed was the lack of ethics, a broken moral compass. It's ordering artists to work for exposure instead of money and calling _them_ greedy when they demand their worth to be compensated with money to pay for food and shelter. It's not accepting no as an answer, demanding attention and gifts for nothing in return, because you want it. It's licking a piece of cake to keep your siblings from eating it and not eating it yourself either. You just don't want others to have it. Greed is to demand someone ill to 'suck it up' and be your personal puppet to push around. 

And Greed was all things money. Never leaving a tip, but requesting discounts at every turn. It's wearing expensive clothes but lacking all self-awareness and style, and no amount of jewellery can change that. Sticking a rose up your ass won't make you a beautiful vase. Greed is the disregard for the law, it's manipulating your taxes, laundering money, the casual insurance fraud, elaborate Ponzi schemes, insider trading and, on a national scale, Capitalism is just as much misguided Greed as Socialism because if no one has anything, nobody has more than you do. And then, you can cheat to get that tiny bit richer. 

Any of those sinners assessed to be punished by her will have their labour exploited in the most dismal corners of Hell. No compensation, no thank-you, no breaks, nothing, damning them to live their afterlife in poverty and everything it entails.

Mammon and her agents will tempt humans to define and demand their worth, to find what sparks joy in them and collect it. Mammon has led humanity to build impressive temples and palaces, design gardens dedicated to a single type of flower, libraries to stockpile books, museums that hoard knowledge. The Greed of the Catholic church? Oh, she wished that was on her. Taking money by selling hope, what a beautiful and simple scheme that was. 

One day she might go visit her fellow Prince to poke some fun at her pompous celestial boy toy who had himself painted into the Sistine Chapel, not because he was the Archangel Gabriel, but because he wanted that spot next to the long lost Raphael so badly.

  


  


Five hours later, after a longer sleep than usual, Beelzebub woke from her slumber. The bright daylight of early afternoon stung her eyes, and she buried her face under the pillow, groaning. It was no use, she had to get up and get some work done. Hell thrived on long waiting times when it came to their bureaucracy, but the infernal paperwork that found its way onto her cluttered mailbox was usually, after some threats, important enough to actually get through. Anything else that snuck its way onto her desk will be burned on the spot once she got around to sort her mail.

She pushed herself up, duvet sliding off her naked body, and made her way to the closet. The doors slid open, revealing stacks upon stacks of black, purple and white with some rare spots of red of hers, contrasted by simple jeans belonging to Gabriel, bought with the intention to blend in among humans. They all hung a little low and clung a tad tight, making him stand out more than anything. But since he worked for that body, she gladly let him have his fun flaunting it. 

Beelzebub grabbed one of his lilac turtlenecks and pulled it on, her hands disappearing up the sleeves and the bottom covering her bum by just about a hand's width. But, Heavens, it was all soft and comfortable, and _hers_ for the rest of the day. 

She shut the closet doors at trotted into the living room, rubbing at her eyes. 

"Hi, honey." Gabriel greeted her, smiling brightly at the sight of her in his jumper. "Had a good rest?" He was kneeling on the floor, shirtless for whatever purpose, in one of those aforementioned perfectly fitting jeans. 

Beelzebub huffed and pushed her hair behind her ear while walking towards him. It didn't stay put. "I feel a little groggy." She lay her arms on Gabriel's broad shoulders, leading him to pull her close into a hug. 

"Probably because you slept off your usual schedule." The angel explained, closing his eyes as he leaned his cheek against her sternum. 

"Remind me to not do that again." She patted his hair through the long sleeves. "And, fuck, I have a _sleep schedule_ now?" 

He only grinned but didn't comment on the fact that most nights she got tired at the same time and slept for three hours, give or take. Gabriel knew better and silently provided order to her usual chaos. "Want some coffee?" He set his chin between her breasts and gazed up at her. 

She nodded and stepped back so he could stand back up. "What were you doing, by the way?" She inquired, following him into the kitchen. 

"Cleaning the carpet." He said, reaching for her red mug with #SATANIST written on it in bold black letters. 

"Why didn't you miracle it clean?" Beelzebub frowned. Something was off. "And is this a new coffee machine?"

"It is. This is healthier than that gross instant granulate you used." He said, filling fresh beans into the top of the machine. "And I didn't miracle the stain away because it's under your desk, no heavenly miracles allowed over there."

"True." She yawned and watched the quite fancy proceedings of coffee beans being ground, but Hells, it smelled good once the hot water hit the powder. "Why shirtless? Not that I mind." Beelzebub ran a finger along his spine. 

Gabriel shifted his stance, clearly enjoying the attention. "Because of the plum sauce."

"The what?" Either the angel wasn't making any sense, or her mind really needed coffee to kickstart processing his words.

"I made plum sauce, and when I spilt it, it also got on my shirt." He watched her finger grace his flank and to the front until it scratched at on his left nipple. 

"In the living room?" Beelzebub asked, her blue eyes fixed on Gabriel's body. 

"No, in the kitchen." Gabriel took her hand and kissed the delicate knuckles he had personally witnessed punching someone's lights out. 

"Please start making sense." The demon groaned and leaned her forehead against his pectorals, nuzzling at his skin. She was still so sleepy. 

"While you were napping and Aziraphale was at work, Crowley came over, and we made yeast dumplings, they are easy to warm up." He handed her the mug, revelling at how her eyes lit up. 

"With plum sauce." Beelzebub stated, after a big refreshing gulp of scalding hot black coffee.

"Yes." The angel nodded. "I heard you were getting up and wanted to put a plate on your desk, a second breakfast, so to speak." 

Beelzebub's heart swelled. It must be the lingering effects of sleep that made her feel this _soft_. This stupid angel, who was known throughout the ages for his arrogance and narcissism, was pampering her. Now more than ever, but even before they even moved into the cottage, he was always eager to please her. 

"I stepped on one of the pins you have scattered around your chair," Gabriel continued while she sipped her drink, "and that sent the sauce over the plate's rim. Please clean those up?"

Beelzebub shook her head. "No, they keep nosy angels away."

"I'm not spying on any of your paperwork, honey, I solely come to your desk for you." He crowded the demon against the kitchen counter, a thigh between her legs as his hands roamed up and under the loose purple jumper. "You're not wearing anything underneath." He noted in a low, approving voice.

"Nope." She meaningfully raised a brow at him and downed the rest of the coffee. "I'll be at my desk, having a _snack_."

  


  


  
◍⊱BEELZEBUB⊰◍  


Beelzebub, the Prince of Gluttony, and her agents handle all sins concerning food. She is the Prince of generous meals and the shame of not being able to eat it all. Eat Nutella with a spoon straight from the glass, have steak five times a week, she doesn't care, but don't let anything go to waste. Gluttony is biting off more than you can chew, eating until you feel sick, indulging in your favourite snack until the mere thought of it upsets your stomach. Have some restraint when you eat. The Prince of Gluttony secures a constant warning that you unthankful privileged prick sip your triple skimmed milk, vanilla powdered, extra caramel drizzle, blonde cocoa cloud macchiato with extra organic whipped cream, only to forget about your nougat-filled gluten-free croissant that you only ordered out of pure boredom, while children are starving. Not just on the other side of the planet, in your own city, your neighbourhood, maybe even family.

Be mindful about what you buy, how much, and what it costs. Not the price at the supermarket, but the environment. Slash-and-burn for soy farms, cattle pressed into tiny stalls and fed a poor diet of low-quality grain, pesticides and fertilisers ruining soil and water, monoculture farming leaving wild animals malnourished after already wrecking their habitat. Support your local farmers and butchers, pay up for it, and stop throwing away perfectly good food that you ignorantly overstocked because the packaging looked pretty. Then it remains forgotten in your fridge and pantry until it all gets thrown into the trash. And, no, a basket of assorted and wax-polished fruits is not meant for _decoration_. 

Why do you think Gluttony is separate from Greed? Think about it for a moment. If there is a person in your village who hoards all the wealth, gathers every coin wrung from even the poorest hand, there is always the option to steal it back from them. Greed tends to backfire, often violently. 

Being out of money is one thing, but watching someone who already had their fair share of food eat the last piece of bread in town while your child's belly remains empty is another. Eaten food is gone, forever, and people starve. While money doesn't mould, food turns poisonous. Starvation drives humans mad. Forget what you call 'hangry', and take a close look at the dark reality that some have to turn to cannibalism and eat their own deceased sibling to stay alive just that little bit longer. You think that is a problem far away from you or from a time long gone, but you're wrong. A gruesome genocide through a man-made famine happened not even a century ago, in Europe, after the dekulakization ordered by the Soviets in Ukraine. Seven million died within a year, no matter the age, and it was a slow painful death, deprived of hope for a simple bite of food. Farmers were taken from their homes and sent to Siberia to die in gulags, while their fields remained unharvested, the crop turning foul and never being eaten. If you snuck onto the field to collect grains for your children, if you picked an apple and didn't hand it over to the government, it was punished by death. Beelzebub had been _livid_. 

And you think those times are over? One word: Venezuela. The government willingly burns aid sent by neighbouring countries, letting Pride and Greed get in the way of its people, forcing its hungry citizens to hunt rats and pigeons as there is no more bread. How about the grim reality that doctors aren't allowed to write down 'starvation' as the cause of death anymore, so the statistics can insolently lie about the derailing situation. At the same time, famished babies die in their mothers' arms who are too malnourished to produce any more milk. Those responsible will all fall into the implacable hands of the Prince of Gluttony. 

Beelzebub embodies the reminder that you ought to share your food with those around you like a decent human being, or you _rot_ in Hell. And that is when her flies come into play, laying their eggs on the decaying flesh of true sinners. At full consciousness, they are forced to witness how maggots feast upon them. Over and over and over.

  


  


A snack, a shared shower and several hours of work later, they had settled into the sofa with a random international news channel on the TV they only paid half a mind to. The angel sat on one side of the sofa while Beelzebub lay down, head on the armrest and feet in the other's lap. Gabriel was flicking through a beginners cookbook while Beelzebub studied one of the books recommended by Dr Villein to know what lay ahead of her.

She had never paid any attention to all of this when she had been on Earth. What she knew was that pregnant women were eating for two and that the food better is good. Apparently, there was a lot more to the whole growing-a-person-thing. Her baby, according to the book, was already able to react to her if she poked her stomach. It would be able to hear the outside world in a couple of weeks, too. The poor thing would hear nothing but Gabriel's constant ramblings. 

But then, the image of him talking to the unborn baby, at her belly, played in her head and she hid her rapidly blushing face behind the book. His doting would only get so much worse, Satan help her. 

"By the way, the Eastmoores wanted to cut down their quince tree, Ludmilla said it bore very little fruit this year." The Archangel told, diverting her train of thought, _thank fuck_. "Crowley talked her out of it, the smarmy bastard. He also said he wanted to talk the tree into shape. Do you know what he meant?"

"He bullies plants to grow better, it's sort of his coping mechanism." The demon explained for him, only a little distracted by the patterns he drew on her shins. 

"How odd." Gabriel scrunched his forehead at the idea.

"Says the angel who goes uphill jogging for two hours after every board meeting." The Prince snarked. 

"Climb every mountain." Gabriel lilted and got a toe jutted into his side. "My singing voice isn't _that_ bad."

"Exactly." Beelzebub locked eyes with him. 

"Oh!" He put his book down and leaned over her. "You actually like my voice?" He asked, mouth close to her rapidly reddening ear, making every word sound sultry.

"Yes." Would Gabriel sing lullabies to the baby? Her imagination provided a clear positive answer. He absolutely would. "Don't let it get to your head, what you _do_ with your voice is still fucking annoying." 

Despite the insult, he still looked smug and puffed his chest. Beelzebub closed her book, lifted her feet from his lap and made her way to the front door. She needed some fresh air to keep her cheeks from burning up. Screw Gabriel and his iterating ability to get her flustered about utter nonsense, even if she was only imagining it by herself at the moment. Never, in those thousands of years, had the Prince to think about having such an infuriatingly caring partner, let alone having a child with them. Both had been impossible, given who and what she was, and the letter still felt unreal even though she had stared at the ultrasound picture for hours by now. She had heard the heartbeat. Suddenly, it was all very real. 

And she needed to _breathe_.

"Where are you going?" Gabriel called after her, concern swinging in his voice. 

"To the damned quince tree." Beelzebub announced while slipping into her shoes.

"Why?" The angel asked, rushing after her. It was well past, they should not go roaming in some neighbours plot, it would only raise suspicion. _More_ suspicion.

He watched Beelzebub effortlessly jumping over their fence, heading towards the Eastmoore's house across the meadow, spooking a fox. "Bella? What are you doing?" He caught up to her with a quick sprint. 

Beelzebub slowed down. Crowley screwing with plants, she never managed to work that tick out of him. Why was he so obsessed with plants in the first place? He had worked for her department, Gluttony, but the Serpent had always focused on decorative greenery that didn't provide fruit or edible roots, and flowers to spoil his angel with. "I'm blessing the tree to bear more fruit." She sniffed, the tip of her nose feeling cold in the chilly September night. "Sort of. I wouldn't call it a blessing, being a demon and all." 

"You can do that?" Gabriel wondered in a hushed tone, incredulous. 

"Of course. "Beelzebub hopped over the garden wall of the Eastmoore's, right in front of the already traumatised quince tree. She'll have A Word with Crowley. He doesn't take any orders from her, shamelessly never really has, but maybe he'd listen anyway. "I used to be worshipped as a harvest God, remember?"

Gabriel grimaced. "We assumed you only did it to anger Her."

Beelzebub turned around and looked at him, chin raised. "Did I?"

The Archangel hesitated to answer, but what was the harm in telling her? He sighed and threw out his arms. "Yes."

A happy laugh bubbled from the demon, changing into a snort as she tried to stay quiet. Her shoulders shook with mirth before she confronted the tree. "Well, then." Beelzebub crossed her arms to keep her hands warm and strolled around the quince tree, eying it with scrutiny. "Here's the deal, you provide fruit, so Ludmilla keeps making her quince jelly, and I'll make sure no one will hurt you beside the needed cuts here and there to keep you healthy." 

She looked up at the tree's crown expectantly. The leaves rustled despite the lack of wind. 

"No more pesticides, Crowley will surely take care of that. You've met him, he can be rather convincing."

The branches creaked. 

"Yes, I'll gladly kick his scrawny ass if he bothers you again." 

Another rustle, shaking the tree's still green fruits. 

"Deal." Beelzebub lifted her hand and snapped. 

Gabriel could feel the energy as it rose up from the depths beneath him and into the roots, pushing upwards through the trunk and spreading into every branch and twig. 

"Don't show off too soon, wait till next year's harvest, but make your current fruit as good as possible."

The leaves shook, the demon Prince nodded and patted its bark before making her way back to a baffled looking Archangel.

"What did I just watch?" Gabriel asked, perplexed and buzzing with a wave of newfound respect for his already dear Beelzebub. 

"Me doing my fucking job." She said, gesturing for him to follow her back home. "The tree can still provide, it just needed a little help."

"Huh." That was all the Messenger got as a comment.

"Don't _huh_ me, angel." She rolled her eyes at Gabriel but took his offered hand to affectionately lace their fingers together. "It's not like your lot actually ever looked at what we do." 

"Well, I'm watching now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 9000 words, good Lord, how did _that_ happen. The art, as mentioned before, is by [WaldosAkimbo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaldosAkimbo), check them out on [twitter](https://twitter.com/heith_2bullets), [tumblr](https://waldos-art.tumblr.com/) or [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/waldosakimbo/).
> 
> Up next: a fourteen chapters long Valentine's Day special starting on the 1st of February ♥

**Author's Note:**

> The art in this installment has been provided by [WaldosAkimbo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaldosAkimbo), check them out on [twitter](https://twitter.com/heith_2bullets), [tumblr](https://waldos-art.tumblr.com/) or [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/waldosakimbo/) ♥
> 
> See you tomorrow for a deep dive into Sloth, Wrath, Greed and Gluttony. 
> 
> And fluff. Lots of fluff.
> 
> PS: Special thanks to my husband for helping me brainstorm about the seven sins, beta-reading and general uplifting of my moods. Also, thank you AEpixie7, for entertaining all my odd late night headcanon rambles.


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